


New Tricks

by quiet__tiger



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, First Kiss, M/M, Meta, matt is a torchwood fanboy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Matt is a slash-writing fanboy. John finds out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal May. 23rd, 2009.

Sometimes John wondered just what the hell he was doing, visiting the kid like he didn’t have a grown up life of his own to attend to. All right, maybe he didn’t and that’s why he sometimes found himself in the cesspool that was New Jersey hanging out with a kid who could be his son.

Except Matt actually talked with him and liked his company, and Jack only called on John’s birthday and Christmas. Or maybe John called him.

Okay, so he felt extremely out of place sometimes, sitting in Matt’s Spartan living room with its empty walls and too-big TV, but then again he had to admit hanging out with the kid was fun. He and Matt agreed often enough to remain friendly, and argued enough to keep things interesting. And if John was highly amused by Matt’s sputtering when they did have arguments, well, Matt didn’t have to know.

Right now, though, John was a little bored. Matt’s phone rang and he insisted he had to answer it, apologizing three or four times for being rude. He’d told John he could check his email if he wanted, if John promised not to touch anything but the mouse and the keyboard. So ten minutes after Matt disappeared into his bedroom, John finally gave in and decided to check—cue the dramatic music—the news using Matt’s computer.

Unless Matt blocked all the regular news websites so as not to be exposed to their blatant lies or whatever.

No headlines caught his eye, and he didn’t have emails, not that he was expecting to. He was about to go sit back on the couch when he realized there was a Word document open underneath the Internet window. It was titled “Jack-Ianto slash fic” and John couldn’t help but wonder why Matt was writing a horror story. He didn’t think the kid would want to think about blood, not after seeing so much of it. Causing some of it.

Politeness losing out to his curiosity, John clicked on the window to open it, then scrolled down. He just wanted to check out the kid’s writing style. Not that he was a good judge or anything, but he did have to have a certain level of skill to write police reports. Maybe he could help Matt with some of the details of the slasher and the victims.

_Jack smiled at Ianto, the smile that made Ianto’s defenses, if he even had any, weaken. He matched every forward step of Jack’s with one step backwards, until he pressed up against the wall. Nowhere else to run, he waited for Jack’s touch._

John smirked. Jack was kind of a teasing bastard, wasn’t he? Just stab him already.

_Ianto swallowed, pulse racing and chest tight as Jack closed the distance between them. There were a few centimeters of space between them but it felt like Jack was touching him everywhere. The captain reached slowly into his pocket and pulled something out, flashing it so Ianto could see._

John rolled his eyes. “Come on, Ee-ahn-to, don’t just stand there and let him stab you. Man up.”

_The grin on Jack’s face was infectious, like usual, and Ianto couldn’t help but smile back. “The warming kind, sir? Am I too frigid?”_

_“Of course not. I just want to spice things up.”_

_“Saying it like that makes me picture you using Tabasco sauce, Jack.”_

_Jack wiggled his eyebrows. “Been there, done that. I don’t recommend it.” Finally closing the distance entirely, Ianto squeezed between Jack and the wall, Jack surged to kiss him, and pressed the new tube of lube into Ianto’s hand. “Of course, I’d let you fuck me without lube, so I guess it doesn’t much matter.”_

John sat back, stunned. “What the fuck?” He scrolled down a bit, confirming his deduction. Matt Farrell was writing gay porn. Porn. With guys. Awfully detailed gay porn. With guys.

Before he could wrap his brain much further around that, he heard Matt say, “Whoops. I meant to close everything before you got here, but you were early and I was distracted by one of my online friends.”

Turning around, John saw the pink flush spreading across Matt’s face. “What is this? I thought it was a horror story, and I thought I could help you out.”

Matt barked out laughter that he cut off abruptly. “Yeah, I don’t think you can help me with that. It’s a slash story. Um.” Matt started to pace, hands gesturing wildly to help him explain. “It’s a fanfiction story, for the show Torchwood. It’s a British show, about alien hunters, and those two, they’re in a relationship on the show, so there’s a lot of fic for them…”

“Jack and Ee-ahn-to?”

“Jack and _Yan_ to. See, Jack is this captain guy who runs Torchwood, and he’s kind of hot and forceful, and funny but tortured, and Ianto is all screwed up as well, big fight thing, and he’s the coffee boy but so much more, and he and Jack hook up and it’s a thing.” _Thing_ was punctuated by Matt’s hands being parallel and pointing at John.

“What?” John shook his head. “Wait, no. Let’s back up. So people write what, porn with them? You write porn with them?” Matt nodded miserably. “Matthew Farrell of the dolls and computer games writes gay porn.” John raised his eyebrows. “That’s a new one.”

Frowning, Matt finally calmed down and looked like he wasn’t waiting for John to hit him. “Are you okay with that? I mean, most people wouldn’t accept it so readily.”

“You hurting anybody?” Matt shook his head. “Everyone reading it above the legal age?”

The kid shrugged. “There’s no limit on reading words, only viewing pictures or video. Everything has disclaimers, too, so people don’t get caught unaware.”

Shaking his head, John said, “Stealth porn.” Sensing that Matt was still vibrating, he said, “Calm down. If you’re not hurting anyone or doing anything illegal, I don’t care what you do. If you have to read gay porn to get off, I’m not going to judge you.” It sent his brain into a weird _thing_ , but he wasn’t going to _judge_.

“I don’t get off on it. It’s fun.”

“That’s some pretty hot stuff there.”

Matt looked like he was about to agree, then stopped. “What?”

“I mean for a gay guy. I guess. If you’re gay I don’t care.” It was a little surprising, but Matt surprised him a lot.

“The other people who read it, and write it, it’s mostly women.”

“Women.”

“Yeah. Like guys like lesbians? Women like men.” John could almost see Matt rewinding John’s words in his head. “And I’m not gay.”

“But you like gay porn.”

“I like to read and write well-written fanfiction about shows and characters I enjoy. The characters happen to be gay. Ish.”

John couldn’t stop his smirk. “Ish, huh.”

“Sexuality is fluid.” It was obvious Matt was about three seconds from launching into one of his lectures.

Cutting him off, John, said, “Okay. So you like men and women. So long as you don’t like farm animals or some shit, I don’t care.”

“Huh?”

“I got the sexuality lecture from Lucy her sophomore year. She was big into the GLTB stuff to support some friends of hers. Felt she needed to enlighten me, her Neanderthal father with the most closed mind in the state of New York.” He shrugged. “I’ve heard it all, and I _get_ it.” He gestured toward the computer. “Writing about TV people is kind of weird, though.”

“It’s fun.” Matt cocked his head. “Informative, too.”

Mirroring the action, John said in a way to encourage the kid to continue, “Yeah?” What could anyone learn from reading fan stories about TV people?

Flushing again, Matt offered, “Yeah. To teach. Sex. Tips and stuff. Always new ideas.” Looking wistful, he continued, “Not that I have anyone to try anything out with.”

“Yeah, Lucy told me you two didn’t work out.” John put on one of his best paternal glares as he said, “Not that I want you using any sort of sex techniques on my daughter.” Mumbling, the kid looked away. “What?”

Completely pink, Matt said clearly, “The gay guys stuff wouldn’t be too helpful, anyway.”

“That’s a good point.” John forcefully pushed thoughts of Lucy and sex from his mind. Well, Lucy definitely, sex not so much. Sex, guys having sex, Matt, Matt having sex… Yeah, now he was having thoughts that definitely shouldn’t be there. Sometimes he felt like a perv for hanging out with Matt as it was, let alone adding sex into the mix. Not that he wanted sex with Matt, and what the hell was his brain doing to him? It had just been so long, and the way Matt was _looking_ at him…

The first thing he could think of to change the subject was to not really change it at all. “You write a lot?”

“Not really. No time. A story every few months. I try to make it a good story when I do.” He dropped onto his couch. He looked and sounded far older than he was; gay porn stories apparently made you world weary. Then he seemed to perk up. “You want to read some of them?”

“I couldn’t do that.” More like didn’t want to.

“Oh.” Matt frowned at something John couldn’t see. “Thought it might be fun to share.”

“Gay _porn_?” That was one of Matt’s more bizarre ideas. “I don’t even know the guys you’re writing about.”

“Then it doesn’t matter. You can just read them as regular people.”

“Regular British guys? I dunno about that.” He didn’t even understand Americans a lot of the time.

“Actually, Ianto is Welsh and Jack is… Well, not from around here.”

John raised his eyebrows; there was obviously a story there, and even more obvious was how he didn’t give a crap. Maybe after he had a drink. Matt was amusing when he ranted, but when he was truly passionate about something unimportant, as he clearly was about Jack and what’s-his-name, he was even more enjoyable to watch.

However, a buzz would help immensely.

~*~

A couple beers with dinner at the bar turned into more beers back at Matt’s apartment. John bitched about sports (millions of dollars to drop the ball) and Matt bitched about how much John liked sports (waste of money that could be used towards a better purpose). The kid might actually hate organized professional competition more than he hated the news.

It was all familiar territory, and was comforting. One day he’d take Matt to a football or basketball game just to watch his reactions. He realized he’d said that out loud when Matt said, “So we can watch the guys grope each other in person. I’ve never understood how men grabbing each other’s asses, grunting at each other, sweating together, changing and showering together, was supposed to represent hetero masculinity.”

“Jesus, they’re not _groping_ each other—”

“No, in football they just pile on like a gang bang. And reach between another guy’s legs for the ball…” Matt took another swallow of his beer. John made a point to pay attention to how much the kid drank; he didn’t do it a lot and he was small. He was already pretty wasted, yet unsurprisingly he could still bitch like a pro.

“Okay, that’s one sport.”

“They all grope.”

“In hockey they hit each other with sticks.”

“That’s just stupid. And they’re all missing teeth.”

John drank from his own beer and brought the conversation back to a topic Matt genuinely enjoyed, rather than just enjoyed complaining about. “Are we really discussing how you think athletes are all queer while you’re writing gay porn about TV characters?”

“It’s all fluid, McClane.” Matt spread out his hands as if to encompass the largeness of the concept and the entirety of the world. “All fluid.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned towards John like he had important news to share. “Even you, I bet.”

“What? No way, kid.”

An odd expression flitted almost imperceptibly across his face as Matt asked, “Not even in college? Some experimenting with your frat brothers?”

“Met Holly in college. Too busy experimenting with her.”

Matt pursed his lips in a way John couldn’t quite read. “So it was Holly Holly Holly and then…?”

“Then a lot of nothing.” Who was he supposed to have sex with, his therapist or buddies on the force? Yeah, not gonna happen.

“That’s too bad. I bet you could have been a player back in the day.” Matt rested his head on the back of the couch; maybe he was finally winding down from the alcohol.

“I could still be a player.” In some parallel universe, maybe, where beat up old cops were a prize.

“Sexy even without the wounds. Scars…”

“Huh?”

But Matt was passed out in what looked like a horribly uncomfortable position with his neck bent at a funny angle. Well, it wouldn’t be too funny tomorrow. John carefully picked Matt up—and fuck, he wasn’t as light as he looked, and was surprisingly solid—and brought him to his bedroom, depositing him on the unmade bed.

Back in the living room, John made himself comfortable on the couch. He was a little too drunk to drive, and while Matt hadn’t offered, he figured he’d be welcome to spend the night.

~*~

John was awakened in the morning by clattering in the kitchen and a low moan. He smirked as he got up and made his way to where Matt was staring forlornly at the floor, can of Red Bull dented and broken and leaking onto the linoleum. The kid groaned again. “Damn.”

Grabbing some Twizzlers from the package on the counter, John asked, “Slow waking up this fine morning, princess?”

The _glare_ Matt leveled at him would have stricken fear in another man’s heart, maybe, but John just cocked an eyebrow at the unruly state of Matt’s hair and chewed on his Twizzler. Finally the kid deflated. “That was my last can. I need to rehydrate.”

John swallowed the licorice, glad he didn’t taste beer anymore. “With that stuff? You should try this new thing, it’s clear, has zero calories, and you can even get it for free.” He crossed the room to the sink, pulled a glass from the dish rack, and slowly filled it with Jersey tap water. Even that had to be better than Red Bull.

He handed it to Matt who drank it carefully, like John might have managed to poison it. After downing half of it, Matt set it on the counter. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Not the first time I’ve woken up with someone with a hangover.” Matt snorted and John realized what he said. “You know what I mean.”

“So that’s how you got Holly. Plied her with liquor.”

“Not exactly.” John hoped his tone adequately conveyed the ‘don’t go there-ness’ of his statement.

Taking the hint, Matt smiled slightly. “If you wanted into my pants, you didn’t need to get me drunk.” He frowned, eyebrows coming together. “It obviously didn’t work, anyway, since I woke up alone and clothed.” He backpedalled. “Not that I wanted—I mean—I know that you weren’t trying to—”

John held up a hand to get Matt to stop talking. It actually worked this time, which indicated how _not okay_ the kid was all of a sudden. “If I were trying to get into your pants, I’d do more than just get you drunk. Actually, I wouldn’t want you too drunk, since I’d question your consent. And I wouldn’t want you getting sick on me or passing out, entertaining though that may be.” And did Matt really admit he didn’t need alcohol to want to jump John? His brain spun a little bit.

Recovering quickly, Matt flipped him off, scowling as he slowly pulled paper towels off the rack. “You’re lucky I didn’t call the cops, walking out here and seeing you on my couch.”

Rolling his eyes, John retorted, “Kid, I am the cops. And let me help you with that before you make a bigger mess.” He knelt down on creaky knees to help Matt mop up the puddle of Red Bull.

Matt let himself fall back onto his butt as he watched John clean. “I don’t feel good.”

Great, a cranky, hung over Matt Farrell. “Learned a lesson, did we?”

“Fuck you.”

“Gonna need a lot more alcohol in me for that, since I don’t lean that way. Or… _flow_ that way with the analogy you’ve been using.”

“Never? Not even thinking about it?” The look Matt gave him was skeptical, assessing, far more than any look should be from someone with a hangover.

“Not really.” At least, nowhere near as much as he had been since yesterday, trying to wrap his head around Matt’s hobby.

“I can’t imagine not being curious, limiting yourself to one sort of experience based on society’s standards of what’s acceptable.”

“This from the kid who experiences the world through a computer screen.”

“Mock me all you want. I’ve experienced things I bet you could never imagine.” There was a ridiculous amount of challenge in the kid’s big brown eyes.

“I’m not going to argue with you on that one.” He liked arguing with Matt, but he didn’t want to hear how the kid thought he was a loser. Instead he stood and threw away the mess from the Red Bull. Offering a hand to Matt, he said, “Come on. Up off the floor.”

Matt grabbed his hand and let himself be pulled up, but then used the momentum to launch himself at John. The kiss was completely unexpected and definitely inexpert, but Matt was enthusiastic and tasted like toothpaste. Then Matt found a better angle before John could push him away, and all of a sudden the kiss didn’t seem so floundering. Maybe it was even kind of nice. The kid’s stubble was disconcerting, but maybe John’s body was so starved for this kind of attention that it didn’t care if the source of that attention was a scrawny guy who needed a haircut.

Then again, John was a big believer in mind over matter, because otherwise he’d probably have lost both long ago. He pulled back but kept his hands tight on Matt’s upper arms. “What did you do that for?”

“I wanted to see how you’d react, if you were truly closed off or if you were in any way interested and maybe didn’t even realize it. I just…” He shrugged a little, but John could tell that underneath Matt was close to panicking. “Well?”

“Kid…” He paused a moment to think, which seemed enough of an action to make Matt’s expression change from somewhat hopeful to crushed. He didn’t want to hurt the kid’s feelings, but it wasn’t as if he wanted to jump him right here in the kitchen where evidence of last night’s beer binge still sat on the counters.

But maybe there was a part of him… The neglected parts of him… The lonely parts of him… The part that maybe kept him coming back to Matt… Something was going on, but damned if he knew what. “Matt.” He squeezed the kid’s arms, making him look into his eyes. “I’m not gay. I’ve never thought about another man that way. I think I’m too old to learn new tricks, _kid_.”

Would Matt catch the emphasis? John couldn’t imagine kissing a man his own age, but Matt was young, different, and had brought a lot into his life. Hell, _given_ him a life outside of work lately. There had to be a reason John kept wanting to spend time with Matt; maybe it wasn’t strictly companionship like he’d thought it was.

Matt utterly deflated and flushed with embarrassment, but then he jerked his head up. “Kid. You always call me ‘kid.’”

“When you’re the same age as my daughter, it’s hard not to.”

“You don’t see me as a man, just any other man.”

“If you had grown up furniture and didn’t subsist on Red Bull and Cocoa Krispies, it’d be a little easier.” Not better, necessarily, but easier.

“Hey! I have a job. I make a living. I contribute to society.”

“I know you do. And you helped save it.”

“Truth, justice, and the American Way, whatever any of that means in this world.”

While he was conscious of his grip on Matt, John didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to stand here holding him, but if he let go, Matt would be free to do anything. Finally he asked, “What do you want?”

“Red Bull.”

“Something I might actually give you.” And yeah, that definitely came out wrong, if Matt’s eyebrows leaping upwards meant anything. “I mean--”

“No, I know. Why did I molest you. What my motivations are for luring you here and getting drunk with you. How will I write this experience into a Jack/Ianto story.”

“What?”

“I molested you because I like you. I drank with you because I was embarrassed and self-conscious. And I think there’s room for Ianto or Jack to make fools of themselves.”

Shaking his head, John said, “You’re not a fool. And I like you, too.” He really did.

“Which is why you’re holding me prisoner.” With that, John let go, and Matt rubbed at his arms. “Look, I don’t expect anything. I really don’t feel well. And I feel stupid, which doesn’t happen all that much. I just want to start the day over, go back in time, and not drop my Red Bull. Or even further back and close out my story before you came over.”

“This is the real world. No space-time continuum to poke holes in.” At Matt’s _look_ he defended himself. “I used to watch a little Star Trek. I’m not that out of it.”

“Kirk and Spock, I bet. And talk about two characters that were _doing_ it…”

John groaned. “ _Matt_ …”

“No, seriously. Started it all. Paved the way for—”

“ _Shut up_.”

“Make me.” So much ridiculous challenge and John had to show the kid he wasn’t going to let him win. John McClane didn’t lose, not even when he was all turned upside down. He was confused right now, but there were ways to try to figure things out, about what he felt right now about himself and Matt. What was between them and Matt’s insistence about fluidity. 

Maybe it would all only prove Matt right, but that was a chance that had to be taken.

Shrugging, John stepped forward and pulled Matt in for another kiss, taking control this time as Matt’s hand wound in his undershirt. The part of him that had enjoyed the first kiss definitely enjoyed this one even more. Maybe he was a little into guys after all. Fluid. Or maybe it was just Matt.

Eventually out of breath, Matt pulled back, and John had to admit that bewildered and flushed was a good look on him. One hand clutching his hair, Matt breathed out, “What are you _doing_ to me? Please don’t tease. Either you don’t like guys and we can be friends—I hope we can still be friends—or you’re interested in exploring more between us, which can go at any pace you want, but if you keep kissing me like this it’s all going to end fast, if you know what I mean.”

Processing, John tapped his fingers on Matt’s side, where his hand had wound up. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Really. Some necking in the kitchen doesn’t mean a walk down the aisle.” And holy shit, that was an unwelcome visual, Matt in a white dress, Lucy as the maid of honor. “I don’t know what I want. So let’s just take a break. You go get dressed so we can do breakfast, and I’m gonna make myself as presentable as possible by borrowing some toothpaste and a shirt, if you have one that’ll fit me.”

Matt nodded precisely, and practically ripped himself from John’s grasp and headed back down the hallway. John waited for the sounds of retching, but didn’t hear any, so maybe Matt was okay.

He still wasn’t sure what Matt wanted, and he sure as hell didn’t know what he wanted himself, but maybe the fire in his belly wasn’t left over from last night’s ribs, and there had to be a reason he wasn’t freaking out.

He doubted he could wind up being what Matt had in mind, but the two of them had stumbled around together to great effect over the summer. They worked well together, there was no doubt about that.

Besides, if what Matt said was true, the kid knew a lot about this gay sex thing, and who was John to turn down the opportunity to learn something new in that department? It’s not like such a chance came around much anymore, and if Matt was willing to be patient… _Very_ patient…

Sometimes John really wondered what the hell he was doing with Matt, and there were even more doubts in his mind now, or maybe this all answered a question or two he hadn’t known to ask. It wasn’t all bad. Not all surprises and changes to routine were good, he could attest to that better than anyone, but things could be worse right now.

He could still feel Matt’s lips against his own, and he smiled. Matt liked him. John could handle that. Matt wrote gay porn. John could handle that. Maybe he should even read some of it now, get some ideas. Matt had unhealthy addictions to energy drinks and snack food and the Internet. John could handle that if he didn’t think too much about it.

He could even handle a sexual identity crisis for himself, at least if he didn’t think about it too much right now. Maybe it _was_ all fluid, and he really did understand the concept even if he’d never thought about himself that way before. Maybe he could even handle the age thing, because it was Matt.

But probably more trips to New Jersey? That would take some getting used to.


End file.
